Chapter 34: Wen Zhixia Is Currently in the Emergency Room

At this hour, it was the peak of the morning rush. The streets bustled with people, office workers glancing at their watches as they hurried toward subway and bus stations. Wen Zhixia waited at a crosswalk, her gaze calm as she looked through the car window. After so long in her comfort zone, the days of racing against deadlines for projects felt like a lifetime ago.

Gu Xia Group, meeting room.

"President Gu, a call from President Zhou," Li Yueting knocked and entered, phone in hand, her voice low.

Gu Pingsheng raised his hand to pause the meeting. "Five-minute break."

He had only intended to take the call at the end of the corridor, but a few seconds later, he strode rapidly toward his office.

73 Xiangshan Road.

Wen Zhixia parked her car, staring at the nearby apartment. Her hand still rested on the steering wheel, left thumb repeatedly rubbing the ring on her right index finger.

"Ding dong."

"Ding dong—"

She took the elevator and searched for the apartment by the number. When the door opened, Wen Zhixia looked up at the woman before her: a long linen dress, slippers, hair piled high, a bare face save for two fine lines at the corners of her eyes.

"Miss, who are you looking for?" The woman eyed her with confusion.

Wen Zhixia glanced inside. "Is Zhao Fuhe here?"

The woman seemed even more puzzled. "You’ve got the wrong place."

Wen Zhixia paused, then asked, "Is this… your home?"

"Do you need something? If not, I’ll close the door," the woman said, her tone baffled.

"Mommy, is it a friend come to play with me?" A child bounced halfway down the hall but was scooped up by his father, who walked over, glanced at Wen Zhixia, and asked the woman, "Your friend?"

The woman shook her head, then closed the door. "No idea who she is. She must have the wrong address."

Wen Zhixia reached out, stopping the door from closing. "Did you buy this place, or are you just staying here?"

The woman grew impatient. "What exactly do you want? If this isn’t my house, is it yours? Do you have business here? If not, please stop bothering us."

Stung, Wen Zhixia looked over the family of three, then slowly let go. "Sorry, I must have made a mistake."

Bang—

The door slammed shut before her eyes.

The wind from the closing door teased her hair, brushing her lips. She smoothed it down, a slight frown creasing her brow.

Footsteps faded inside; on the other side of the door, the adults breathed a sigh of relief. The woman patted her chest. "Did I slip up at all?"

The man set down the child. "No."

The once lively child now quietly clung to his father’s pants, whispering, "Daddy, can we go home now?" He was still so young, unaware of why his parents had brought him here and made him pretend it was their home.

Just as the man was about to speak, the sound of the door opening came from within. He turned and called softly, "Miss Zhao."

Zhao Fuhe emerged from a room, glanced at them, and sat on the sofa, beckoning to the boy. The child looked up at his parents. With their nod of approval, he slowly walked over.

Zhao Fuhe pinched his cheek. Her nails were a bit long, digging into his tender skin. He cried out at the pain and slapped her hand away before running back to his parents.

"Mommy, the bad lady pin—mmph…"

His mother quickly covered his mouth and shook her head at him.

But it was too late. Zhao Fuhe, having heard it, shot them a cold glance. "Enough, I’m tired. I’ll rest. You can leave in an hour."

After leaving 73 Xiangshan Road, Wen Zhixia sat in her car, gazing up at the building.

"Uncle, I need to trouble you with something… I remember you’re old friends with Director Che from the Housing Bureau. Yes, I need to check the owner of a property… Thank you."

A few seconds after she hung up, her friend’s father sent her the contact details.

Wen Zhixia then drove away.

At her window, Zhao Fuhe watched the car pull away, her fingers clutching the curtain before she flung it aside in frustration. This was her home, but she had to live like a thief, hiding from sight.

Wen Zhixia came, and all she could do was sneak around, too afraid to even show her face!

As the family left, the man muttered at the door, "She really thinks she’s some empress. The nerve of a mistress—if it weren’t for the money, who would bother with her?"

The woman tapped his back. "The child’s listening."

He sheepishly picked up their son. "Come on, let’s go home."

"Tell me, what are rich people thinking these days? That wife who caught them is way better than the woman inside, in every way. Is it that men always think the grass is greener?" she asked.

"Of course not…"

Their voices faded away as they disappeared from 73 Xiangshan Road.

Mingju Teahouse.

Wen Zhixia chose a window seat. Her slender, pale fingers turned a celadon teacup, making her skin look even fairer.

"I guessed it was you. I happened to be with Director Che and offered to run this errand. Seems it wasn’t wasted," Zhang Zhiyan sat opposite, holding a file folder.

"You… why are you here?" She’d arranged to meet Director Che.

"I happened to be there when you called. Since we’re acquaintances, I brought you what you needed." He handed her the folder. "Is it… 73 Xiangshan Road?"

Wen Zhixia said nothing, just took it, untying the string and opening it slowly.

Zhang Zhiyan sipped his tea. He hadn’t looked inside but watched her closely, hoping to read something from her expression.

There weren’t many pages, and Wen Zhixia finished quickly.

Rip—

The sudden sound of paper tearing filled the air. Wen Zhixia, eyes lowered, shredded the documents and returned the scraps to the folder.

Her actions made Zhang Zhiyan’s eyelids twitch. "What are you doing?"

"I went to 73 Xiangshan Road a little over an hour ago," she said abruptly.

He waited for more.

"A woman in her thirties opened the door, with her husband and son behind her." She brought the cup to her nose, inhaling the fragrance of the tea.

"Interesting. Just two days ago, only a woman lived there. Now, a family of three," Zhang Zhiyan remarked, unsurprised that she hadn’t seen Zhao Fuhe but instead found a family.

Given her investigation into the property, he already had suspicions.

"If I’m not mistaken, the name on the deed in the folder isn’t his either, is it?"

The tea had cooled, tasting slightly bitter. She poured a fresh cup and nodded.

Zhang Zhiyan smiled. "I underestimated him."

Was this simply resourcefulness and secrecy, or the result of careful calculation?

Either way, "Do you really believe you’re the only woman in his life?" Zhang Zhiyan asked.

The tea’s initial bitterness lingered, leaving a faint sweetness on her tongue, but it couldn’t wash away the astringency in her throat.

Wen Zhixia didn’t answer.

"It’s lunchtime. This tea only whets the appetite. I’ve booked a restaurant—why not finish the meal we didn’t last time?" He stood, pushing back his chair, dropping the subject.

With clever people, there’s no need to spell things out. It’s less interesting that way.

The fact that Wen Zhixia had found 73 Xiangshan Road meant she already harbored suspicion. Women are born detectives in matters of the heart, and she herself was an intelligent woman.

The place Zhang Zhiyan brought her to wasn’t a fancy restaurant, nor did it pretend to be. It was an ordinary roadside eatery, bustling and packed inside, with a line out the door.

In Wen Zhixia’s mind, Zhang Zhiyan always seemed the consummate elite. This lively shop seemed out of character for him.

"Don’t just stand there—I paid a lot to reserve a private room," he said.

The room was barely four or five square meters, and after squeezing in a table and chairs, there was hardly space to walk.

Wen Zhixia sat down only after being pulled along. When Zhang Zhiyan finished ordering, her curled lashes fluttered twice as she finally collected herself.

"It’s a small place, but the food is truly delicious. The flavors here are something fancy restaurants can’t match," Zhang Zhiyan said as he poured her a glass of water.

"This place… It’s been open in Sifang City for ten years," Wen Zhixia said suddenly.

Zhang Zhiyan paused mid-pour. "You’ve been here before?"

She nodded. "We were the first customers…"

We—she and Gu Pingsheng.

She was sixteen, he seventeen.

The bus was late, and to save time, she cut through the back entrance of the school via the Muslim quarter.

Teachers had repeatedly warned students not to take that shortcut; the area was known for shirtless ruffians and petty thugs.

Wen Zhixia was an obedient student and had never done so before—this was her first time.

People always believe they’ll be the exception, telling themselves, "It won’t happen to me." But sometimes, fate intervenes. Wen Zhixia found herself trapped in a narrow alley, unable to retreat or advance, nervousness prickling her heart.

"Little sister, lend us some cash," one thug said.

She pulled two five-yuan bills from her pocket—all the money she had.

She valued her life and would rather pay than risk harm.

But youth is naive, unaware of how greed knows no bounds.

"Is that all? Are you kidding us?"

Another tugged at his companion’s arm. "Don’t be so fierce, you’ll scare her. Little sister, don’t be afraid. We’re not bad people, just want to be friends."

The thug moved closer; Wen Zhixia backed away. "I have to get to school. If you don’t want the money, let me go."

"What’s the point of school? We’ll show you a much better time. You’ll never want to go back," one said, his hand settling on her shoulder.

They pressed her into a corner, saying her clothes were too thick, offering to help lighten her load.

Gu Pingsheng strolled by, whistling, his school jacket half-zipped, hands in pockets. His bag, empty of books, was just for show. He picked up a brick, hurled it at one of them. "You little bastard, where do you think you’re putting your hand?!"

"Who the hell is this punk?!"

Gu Pingsheng yanked off his jacket, twisted a sleeve into a rope, and swung it at them.

It was three against one, and even for an experienced fighter like him, it wasn’t easy to break free.

A flash of cold steel caught Wen Zhixia’s eye. Her mind went blank, and when she came to, she had grabbed a bottle from the corner and smashed it over the head of the knife-wielding thug.

She didn’t hold back, nor did she aim carefully. The bottle shattered, and the thug collapsed, blood streaming from his head.

"She… she killed him!" the other two screamed, scrambling away.

Wen Zhixia, clutching the bottle, went pale, her mind buzzing.

A drop of blood landed at the corner of her eye, looking like a tear of blood.

"He’s not dead. Don’t be afraid." Gu Pingsheng crouched, checked the thug’s breathing. After calling the police, he wiped her fingerprints from the bottle and pressed his own over them before tossing it aside.

"Later, just say I did it. You were just passing by and got mugged. As for me… I was just being a good Samaritan." He raised an eyebrow, grinning mischievously. "Hey, bookworm, just now—"

He drew out the words, his smile roguish. "—you were awesome!"

She had smashed a bottle over the head of a would-be assailant. In that moment, Gu Pingsheng couldn’t describe how he felt—it was like seeing the gentle kitten of the class suddenly unsheath her claws.

He was startled—and impressed.

Still tense, Wen Zhixia looked up into his smiling face, her thick lashes trembling.

Since it was self-defense and the thug wasn’t gravely injured, and since they were students, the school intervened and they were released from the police station.

There were still reprimands to be had, but good students always received leniency. The dean let Wen Zhixia leave first, keeping Gu Pingsheng back.

"You went too far, Gu Pingsheng. It’s good to help, but you can’t just beat people to death. Ever thought about the consequences if someone had died?"

Hands in his pockets, Gu Pingsheng opened his mouth to talk back, but Wen Zhixia, visible through the window, shook her head at him. He swallowed his retort—the school’s notorious troublemaker, for once, accepting the lecture. "Yes, sir, you’re right. I’ll write a reflection. Oh, my stomach hurts—I need the bathroom."

The dean had no intention of punishing him harshly. Had it been another student, he would have been praised. But for the ever-rowdy Gu Pingsheng, vigilance was needed—he couldn’t be allowed to think fighting would earn rewards.

After school, the delinquent cornered Wen Zhixia, yanking her by the collar, demanding she treat him to a meal.

When she tried to refuse, he scowled. "Come on, bookworm. I took the fall for you—aren’t you going to buy me dinner? This is a moral failing. I can’t believe I care about you."

"I—I only have ten yuan." She looked down, emptied her pockets. Two five-yuan bills lay in her pale palm.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to treat him—she owed him thanks—but she was… broke.

Gu Pingsheng froze, knowing he shouldn’t laugh, but couldn’t help himself. He reached out and ruffled her hair. "Damn… cough, you’re adorable."

She scowled, fixing her ponytail and smoothing her rumpled shirt.

"Come on, I won’t scam you. We’ll eat something cheap." He slung her bag over his shoulder, surprised by its weight. "What do you have in here? Careful, or you won’t grow."

Wen Zhixia ignored him, thinking he was noisy.

"Give it back. I can carry it myself." She’d packed two extra workbooks that day.

Gu Pingsheng pretended not to hear, striding ahead with her bag, forcing her to follow.

He took her to "City Memories," the very restaurant they were now at. It had just opened, all dishes half-price.

He ordered recklessly. "This, this, this, and that—hurry up!"

Wen Zhixia had warned him she had no money, hoping he’d take it easy, but he clearly hadn’t cared. She bit her lip. "…How much money did you bring?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Aren’t you treating? Why would I bring money?"

Wen Zhixia was speechless. So—he didn’t bring any, yet ordered so much!

She laid her money on the table. "I only have ten yuan. You ordered so much—you figure it out." He could stay and wash dishes.

But in the end, Gu Pingsheng didn’t have to. That day, the 66th table was free.

Recalling the past, a smile unconsciously curved Wen Zhixia’s lips. She hadn’t had a wild youth, which left much of her school days hazy, but every sharp memory she did hold was bound to that vibrant, unruly boy.

Watching her smile, Zhang Zhiyan’s gaze darkened.

Gu Xia Group.

Gu Pingsheng answered a call from Zhao Fuhe, who tearfully said Wen Zhixia had left. "…Does that mean I can’t live here anymore?"

"Move to Chengyaju. It just opened," he replied.

Chengyaju was far grander and more upscale than 73 Xiangshan Road. Did this mean her status had risen?

She’d already heard that just before she moved in, another woman had lived at 73 Xiangshan Road.

"…Will you come keep me company tonight? I haven’t slept well caring for my brother these days. I’m anxious. With you here, I can rest easy," she pleaded.

Another call came in. Gu Pingsheng cut her off with, "We’ll see," and hung up.

Chen Antai, holding documents, was about to knock on the half-open office door when he heard voices from inside. He hesitated, deciding to return later, but overheard—

"…Thank you, President Zhou, for your help with the Xiangshan Road matter."

"It was nothing, President Gu, don’t mention it. I just happened to overhear President Zhang and young Miss Wen talking. Men, after all—who doesn’t stray? Don’t you agree? Little Miss Wen just takes things too seriously. Such trivial matters aren’t worth getting upset over…"

Gu Pingsheng stood at the window, sipping coffee. "Just a woman of no consequence. She’s not worth it."

President Zhou laughed. "Exactly—mistresses are just for fun. I heard… she used to work at Junyue? You’ll have to introduce us sometime, President Gu."

Gu Pingsheng set his coffee cup down, his long fingers tapping the rim twice. "President Zhou, you have refined tastes."

His tone was unreadable.

Chen Antai withdrew, deciding to try again later.

Xiangshan Road?

Li Yueting saw Chen Antai turn away and lingered a moment. Holding documents, she entered to get Gu Pingsheng’s signature, only to see him suddenly stand, face ashen, gripping his phone.

"Are you Wen Zhixia’s family? This is the city’s Third People’s Hospital. Wen Zhixia is in the emergency room. Please come as soon as possible…"

"Hello? Are you listening?"

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?"

"What’s wrong? No one answered?" a colleague asked.

The nurse frowned. "They picked up, but no one spoke."

"Maybe it’s a bad signal. Hang up and try again."

The nurse nodded, about to hang up, when a hoarse voice came through: "I’m on my way."

"President Gu."

Li Yueting hurried over as Gu Pingsheng stumbled, ready to support him.

He pressed his fingers to the desk. "Call the driver. Bring the car to the entrance."

She’d caught the word "hospital" in the call, but nothing more. "The driver’s off today—I’ll take you."

She thought she felt a faint tremor in his hand as she helped him.

Was it worry? Or fear?

Gu Pingsheng pushed her away, took his keys, and strode out, saying only, "Let’s go."

She followed.

Third People’s Hospital, emergency room.

Zhang Zhiyan paced the corridor, back and forth. Hearing the rapid, chaotic footsteps behind him, he turned—